The Lion, The Snake and The Gay Chicken
by Ko'Tonii-Chan
Summary: FULL SUMMARY INSIDE! A game of Gay Chicken seems to be the hardest thing Draco Malfoy has ever done.


**The Lion, The Snake and The Gay Chicken**

It's Ron's 16th, and he's hosting a huge party in the Gryffindor common room. Draco, who just happened to be passing by, is challenged to a game. A game which will test his wits, brawn and courage. A round of Gay Chicken. With his arch enemy, Harry Potter. In front of every 6th Year at Hogwarts. After losing to Harry's bet, he becomes Ron's personal slave, and is asked to do the most conflicting task he has been confronted with. Can Draco soothe Harry's aching heart with words, or will he need more? (Harry/Draco)

Rated **TEEN **for sexual references and coarse language

A/N: Yes, I am quite aware that it may be OOC/completely crap/semi-smutless. I was drunk on fatigue. Don't blame me. I write better when I sleep

Its the middle of the night. I'm trying to sleep. All I hear is the loud, rumbling music coming from the Gryffindor common room. All I feel is the numbing vibration of the bass. Surely the dopes running this pathetic school would do something about this. Especially the idiot holding the party, the Weasely scum. How could he, the vermin of mankind, manage to hold a party with every 6th Year in the damned school? Except for me, of course. Why the hell would I be involved in such lame frivolities? I wonder if it really is all it's cracked up to be. Maybe I will go and laugh at him, it'd make me feel better. I have nothing better to do. I kicked the emerald green covers off my legs in aggrivation and stood up. I sighed, as I reached for my satin green dressing gown. I tied it, wondering why the hell I was willing to do this. I walked out of the empty dormitory, my feet tapping down the cold stone steps of the winding staircase. I'm too tired for this bullshit. My eyes briefly scan my watch. 2:07am. I snarl as I furiously pace towards the other common room. I felt the vibrations getting stronger as I approached the Gryffindor domain. So many thoughts ran through my head. Why am I doing this? Why should I care? How did Weasel-boy get so popular? I rolled my eyes and scoffed. Surely, I thought, surely they're only in it because he's best friends with Potter. Potter. That name was a stench in my nostrils, a repulsive taste on my tongue and a vile memory in my mind. What's so different about him? He himself didn't fend off the Dark Lord, it was his mother, so why was he so famous? If only the Dark Lord hadn't succumbed to the bitter emotion of love, if only he weren't defeated by something so pathetic and simple, if only Potter had just been killed. Too many "if's" fill my head, to the point where it gets too much. I reach the entrance to the common room. I stop, about 100 meters away from it. Should I actually be doing this? I can't do anything to ruin my reputation. Seen with the Weasel-boy, 'Pothead' and the rest of the scum in this school would definately not go so well with my father. I shrug it off, I just need a cheap laugh. I walked past the entrance casually, and heard a familiar voice call my name.

"Oi, Malfoy!" I hear Crabbe. I turn my head sharply.

"Come join the party, its great!" Goyle called out. My eyes and brow narrow. Pathetic, just pathetic. My followers, rubbbing shoulders with the rest of these idiots. Crabbe and Goyle keep urging me to join them, I roll my eyes. _Why, Draco, why'd you do it? _I see my mother asking me in my thoughts. I walked in, glaring aggresively at the other party-goers, glaring right back at me. For the first time in my life, I had felt really small, in a room filled with the inferiors. The irony is unbearable. Crabbe and Goyle lead me to one section of the common room, next to a cork board, where a mixed group were playing a game. This group included Potter and his friends. Potter stood up, grinned and made his way towards me.

"Well, this is unusual, isn't it? The high-and-mighty Mr. Malfoy joins us inferiors for a party. How delightful" he smirks, laying the sarcasm on so thick, it feels like breathing with smog-corrupted lungs. Hermione, seated behind him, stood up and laughed. I sneared.

"I came to complain about the noise, Potter. It's quater past two, and if you don't turn the racket down, I'll be going to the proffessors. If they do nothing, I will be going to the Ministry of Magic about the incompetency of the teachers. Understand?" I grittted through my teeth. Weasel-boy approached me, with an aggresive look.

"Piss off, Malfoy. No one invited you" he said. I returned the gesture with an upturned nose.

"Very well, then. Proffessor Dumbledore will be here in at least 15 minutes. Mark me, Potter. Weasel-boy" I snarled. I turned, but my shoulder was grabbed by Potter. I violently shrugged it off.

"Hands off, Potter. There's value to my life, unlike yours" I said. Potter rolled his eyes.

"Malfoy, I want to make a proposition" he said, looking into my eyes. After a moment, and a thought lead astray, I chuckled.

"Sorry, Potter, even if I did 'swing that way', there's no hope in hell for you" I added, spinning to take off again. Potter grabbed me by the scruff of my pyjamas and pulled me back.

"Not like that, you slimy git! I meant I have a challenge for you. Complete the challenge, and you'll get your way - the party will be dissolved within 15 minutes. If I win... Well..." Potter thought. I have no idea what he has in store for me, but I think I'm scared already. I cringe at the possibilities of what could happen. Potter's eyes lit up.

"Ah! If I win, you will have to obey Ron for a week, and I mean every whim. Fair?" he asked, with a smirk. I see Weasel-boy's jaw hit the ground out the corner of my eye. What an immature prat. I roll my eyes.

"That's immature, even for you, Potter--"

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Going to cry to daddy?" Potter interrupted me. I snarled loudly, attracting more attention to me.

"Fuck you, Potter! I will not lose to you!" I bellowed with my finger an inch from his face, attracting all the people within the room. The music was silenced as people tuned in to see me face my trials. I still have no idea what is happening. Judging Potter and Weasley's maturity scale, this will be some sort of child's game. I will not lose to you, Potter. That's a promise. Potter put his hands on his hips and chuckled as he looked at his shoes. He looked at me with a grin which would terrify all in my position.

"I call... Gay Chicken" he announced. Different reactions occured throughout the room. Some shocked gasps, some scowls and some - mainly women - cheers. I stood puzzled. Trust Potter to play a game with derrogatory terms in it for a cheap laugh. I looked back at him with an apathetic expression.

"I don't have a clue what Gay Chicken is, but if its anything you came up with, I'm out" I say. I hear Weasely jeering behind Potter.

"Wow, Harry! A servant! This is the greatest birthday gift you've ever given me" Weasely chuckled. The crippling sarcasm returned, crushing me under the weight. I snarled, and resumed, temporarily defeated.

"How do you play?" I asked, reluctantly. I could quite easily guess, but I was hoping I was dead wrong. As Potter explained the rules, my face turned sour. It was exactly what I thought it was. This will be the one thing that ruins the Malfoy name. I'm sorry, father. I'm sorry, mother. I'm only doing it for my pride. I stared silently at Potter.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Potter smirked. Such a twat, I swear this is meant to be the other way around.

"You wish" I replied, with a similar smirk. I can do this. I'm meant to be the prat here, I'll beat him at his own silly little game!

We sat in the middle of the large room, our eyes fixated in an angry stare. Neither of us wanted to do this, but we both wanted something, and either of those weren't going to come easily. I'll admit, he's as headstrong as me, so there's no room for compromise. Things have to be taken into our hands. Even if it means playing Gay Chicken. The huge crowd penned us in. There was no going back, for the sake of my pride and for the sake of beating Potter. He braced himself, but broke his concentration by taking his glasses off to Weasely, stood beside him.

"Take these - I don't want to see this" he said. I interrupted the exchange.

"No, Potter. If you hand those glasses over, I'll see it as retreat. It's not too late" I said with a smirk. I gained the upperhand. Potter scowled and took his glasses back off Weasely and angrily put them on. This time, he was the one temporarily defeated. He braced himself again, as did I. Weasely stood between us. We both looked up at him, annoyed.

"Let the round of Gay Chicken begin" he said, pulling a party popper towards the air. He walked back out and crouched in the crowd. I inched closer to him, and instantly felt sick. I could tell he was thinking the same. He inched closer to me until we were in each other's faces.

"No tongue" Potter warned me. I chuckled.

"Retreat, Potter?" I asked. He growled under his breath and put his hand on my cheek. I felt a part of me die at this moment, I wonder if that's how all women felt when they're being embraced by Potter. I'm sick of his hesitation, I just want to go back to bed. I closed my eyes and pushed myself onto his lips, shortly regretting it. I heard everyone else cheer in the room, but I wanted to cry. I felt his face screw up in disgust. I won this one, Potter... Or so I thought. I felt him relax and open his mouth, kissing me more passionately. What the fuck is he doing? I guess I'll just have to go along with it. I started open-kissing him, and slipping a bit on tongue in. One girl fainted and several others were totally entranced by the occurance. I smirked inside. He's going to give up very soon, but already this has gone on longer than I had hoped. Potter pushed me onto my back and started to undo my robe and my shirt buttons. My eyes shot open in horror, watching him undress me in front of all the 6th Years. He pulled away from my lips and began to trail down my neck. All the girls, bar Hermione, screamed and giggled.

"What the fuck are you doing, Potter?" I yelled. A girl shushed me.

"Shut up, you're ruining the mood" she said, before joining her swooning friends. I'm confused. Very confused.

"What do you mean, 'mood'? Its only a game!" I asked in horror. The girls stood giggling behind their hands. I suddenly thought of something... Was Potter planning this all along? He started to lick at my nipples, erect from the cold. A shiver went down my spine. A very good shiver.

"Don't do that, Potter!" I begged.

"Does it feel good, Malfoy?" Hermione mocked me. I turned my head to her.

"Shut it, you mud-blo--" I said, interrupted by my own gasp. This felt too good, I couldn't let him win. I started to writhe, in attempt to get him off of me.

"Look, Malfoy's enjoying it!" I heard one girl say. Everyone started to cheer me. I should be feeling proud, but you can't when you've got your enemy litterally sucking your teat. Potter soon stopped, thankfully. He then straddled me, making me turn blood red. Let's just say I felt certain things that I could have gone the rest of my life without.

"Potter, get off me!" I said, trying to push the lanky sod off of me. He shifted his weight continiously, grinding himself against me. This, in turn, felt incredible. Without me being aware, I let a small moan escape me, and my eyes closed. Silence filled the room. Oh shit. Wasn't meant to let that slip. Damn you, Potter! Damn you for making me feel so good! I looked at Potter, who strangely enough seemed to be enjoying it too. I'm so confused. Is this even a game to him anymore? Or was it just an excuse? His grinding was starting to get me off. I had to stop him, before its too late.

"RETREAT!" I screamed. Potter stopped, and looked down at me. For a brief moment, his eyes glinted with sadness, but then stood up and put his foot on my chest.

"I win, Malfoy!" he cheered. Harry Potter, you are the most unpredictable person I've ever met.

Two days after, I was hard at work with my matron dress on, with 'Sister Smart-Arse. Happy 16th Ron!' embroidered on the long, white apron. Basically, I look like the biggest douche in the world. In just two days, I made his bed four times, washed, hung up and ironed his clothes, bought him a new wand for his birthday and I asked out three girls for him. None of them actually replied, but laughed at me, and made references to that horrid night. Just after dinner, Weasely pulled me aside.

"I have one final request" he said solemnly.

"Pfft, I still have four more days of this!" I scoffed. He shook his head.

"If you do this for me, than you can have those four days off. This is really serious" he said. My smart-ass smirk temporarily disappeared. I shoved my hands into the pockets of the apron.

"Go on" I prodded. Weasely looked to the floor and looked back up at me.

"Harry's been really depressed and confused lately; he thinks he's... 'Swinging that way', to put it bluntly" Weasely said. The lack of the stupid grin made me take him semi-seriously. I snorted.

"Pottter's a loser AND a faggot!**" I laughed. Weasely grasped my dress collar.  
**(** I apologise for using the derrogatory term, but 'homosexual' doesn't seem Malfoy-ish... Just trying to keep it in character. Enjoy! **)**

"He's falling for you!" he growled quietly into my face. I remained silent. Now I'm confused. Again. Why would he be falling for me? Weasely sighed and let go of my dress. He's a constant reminder of me wearing the damn thing. Bastard.

"My last request is to go and make him happy. Just for tonight, just pretend you love him, or something. I just hate seeing him so depressed. He won't listen to anyone, but I know you can at least set things right. Please, Malfoy?" he pleaded. I never thought this contemplation would occur, but I have a little bit of respect for Weasely now. Of course, he is still the dog muck on my shoes, but at least he's _caring_ dog muck on my shoes. I nodded and left hastily to the common room. As I walk there, I try and sort out how I'm going to do this. I don't even care for Potter, so how can I fake my feelings for a night? Wait... Will I even be faking them? My mind flashed back to the sullen eyes belonging to Potter, before claiming his victory. Perhaps that did mean he was enjoying himself. With me. His arch nemesis since 1st Year. I felt bad. I shouldn't have to fake my feelings. If I ever have to love someone, I have to love them with all my heart. But, of course, no one sees past my rough exterior. Before my thoughts can clear, I reach the entry for the Common room. The painting lady sniggers.  
"Password... Please" she giggles, looking at my apron. I just look at her. She's a painting. She means nothing to me.

"Wea-- RON'S orders" I state, forcing Weasely's first name out my mouth. The portrait laughs.

"I heard what happened the other night, but what business do you have in the Gryffindor room?" she asks, flattening the dress on her lap.

"I have to see... Harry" I said, requiring less force. I have never said his name before, on its own, without adding an expletive, a sneer or spitting his last name. The painting nodded and swung open, still sniggering.

"Love the dress, by the way"

"Nicer than yours, you tart"

I walked up to find Potter sat on the end of his bed, reading a book. I walked towards him slowly. He didn't see me, his back was turned.

"Hey" I called out softly. Potter's head turned as he dog-earred the top corner of the book. He put it down beside him. I walked closer.

"Hi" he said softly. I sat down next to him and put my hand on his knee. This felt so wrong, but I guess I could just keep it up. I am the master of disguise. He braced himself and looked at me.

"Are you ok, Harry?" I felt like I'm going to be sick. He looks back at me, and softly places his moist, sort of clammy hand on mine. He nods, but its not at all convincing. I dig deeper. I have to. To make him happy. On Weasely's request, I remind myself. I'd rather make Potter happy than have to wash Weasely's unmentionables again. THAT is an experience I would like to forget. Very soon. I focus back on my task at hand.

"Honestly, you look really upset" I say, showing concern. I allow my face to slide closer to his. Our cheeks are touching. "Is there anything I can do?" I ask in a whisper. This is sick. I feel so OOC right now. I press on. Potter's face turns towards me slightly.

"Not unless..." he begins. I clasp his hand, wishing it was someone clasping my hand, saying 'you'll be fine - I'll buy you an ice cream after this'. I lean my face closer, brushing against his lips just enough.

"Unless what, Harry?"

"Not unless I figure myself out" he turns away, almost in shame. I feel a little bit tense now. I just want this over and done with! I use my other hand to grasp his shirt and pull him towards me, planting my lips onto his. After a few sickening moments, I pulled away and stared into Potter's eyes. They look lonely, like he just needs a hug.

"I want to help you, anyway I can" I say to him, with a half-smile. Of all the things I can fake, a genuine smile is something I just can't do. Regardless, somehow, the repitition of pretending to care is somewhat sinking in. I think I'm slipping too deeply into my temporary roll. Potter looks up at me.

"You could kill me - that'd be nice" he says gruffly. I roll my eyes and bring him close to me, in an embrace that was far from fake, to his - and my own - surprise. I press my face into his scruffy, black, filthy hair and kiss him.

"You have to understand you aren't alone. Many people our age have fantasies they want to act out on. This strange impusle drives us all to find what we want in this life. Even I have these impulses and urges--"

"Not towards someone who hates you, Malfoy! Why are you even here?" he asks. My lips purse into a thin line. I'm pissed off now. My hands cup the sides of his skinny face and force his eyes to gaze into mine.

"Harry Potter, you'll never understand how it feels to be me!" I raised my voice. He looks shocked. I let go and let my own head into my hands, leaning over to stare at the blood red carpet beneath our feet.

"I always feel so alone. I feel like I'm the only--" Come on, say it, its not true, you know it, just SAY IT "--Gay guy in the school" I sigh. I almost said Deatheater. I think I'd rather have that exposed than call myself gay. Potter leant over and kissed me on the cheek. He sat back, now rigid and blushing immensly. I looked back at him and pushed myself onto his lips. For an unknown reason, I felt a powerful urge rush over me. Suddenly, I had a great desire to be with Potter. I feel his soft hands trail up the skirt of my dress, another freaking reminder I am wearing a dress. Weasely will pay for this. With his life. After. I'm too busy passionately embracing Potter. His hand stroking my upper thigh left me with an insatiable thirst. My hands sought his chest, and I lean him down, onto the bed, with me proceeding. I straddled him now, and it feels rather nice. I bend down back to Potter's lips. I think, at this moment, having Potter's hands caress my backside while I'm pouring out years of neglected feelings onto this one man I couldn't care less about is making me feel better. Suddenly, an announcement is made over the P.A system.

"_All students are to return to their dormitories for inspection and rest. All students report to your dormitories. Thank you_" Proffessor McGonagall's voice boomed. I sat up from Potter. He looked up at me, and he placed his hand on my cheek.

"Please tell me we'll continue this another time?" he pleaded. I nod.

"Definately. Tomorrow night, abandoned bathroom. Meet me there after dinner" I say. I lean down to kiss him once more. I think its just become automatic in my mind now. What the fuck have I done to myself? Potter smiled.

"Thank you, Draco" he says as I climbed off him. I walk out briskly. I entered the room confused and I found absolutely no answers, except they'll be a new rumour about that I slept with Harry Potter. Tonight, I most likely won't sleep. I'll be too busy thinking about tomorrow night with Potter. Perhaps maybe I have come to a conclusion. I write it down on the palm of my hand:

iloveharry

**END... **

**Part two. **

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